‘The usual Church politics,’ Patriarch Emban told him dryly. ‘You know how much our mother adores intrigue. We were fighting a delaying action in the meetings of Hierocracy, manipulating votes, kidnapping Patriarchs – that sort of thing. We were barely able to keep the Primate of Cimmura off the throne, and then Martel showed up and laid siege to the Holy City. We pulled back inside the walls of the inner city for one of those tedious last stands. Things were starting to get serious by the time you arrived last night.’
‘Has Annias been seized as yet?’ King Obler asked.
‘I’m afraid not, Your Majesty,’ Dolmant replied. ‘Martel managed to spirit him out of the city just before dawn.’
‘That’s truly unfortunate,’ Obler sighed. ‘He could still come back and make a serious bid for the Archprelacy then, couldn’t he?’
‘We’d be overjoyed to see him, Your Majesty,’ Dolmant said with a mirthless smile. ‘I’m sure you’ve heard of the connection between Annias and Martel and the suspicions we have about some sort of arrangements between them and Otha. As luck had it, we were able to take the commander of the Archprelate’s personal guard to a place where he could overhear Annias and Martel talking. The colonel’s completely neutral, and everybody knows it. Once he reports what he heard to the Hierocracy, Annias will be expelled from the Church – at the very least.’ He paused. ‘Now then,’ he went on, ‘the Zemochs are massed in eastern Lamorkand as a part of the arrangement between Otha and Annias. As soon as Otha finds out that their plans have gone awry here in Chyrellos, he’ll start to march west. I’d suggest that we do something about that.’
‘Have we any idea of which way Annias went?’ Ehlana asked, her eyes glittering.
‘He and Martel took Princess Arissa and your cousin Lycheas, and they’re all running to Otha for protection, My Queen,’ Sparhawk told her.
‘Is there any way you could intercept them?’ she demanded fiercely.
‘We can try, Your Majesty,’ he shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t hold out much hope, though.’
‘I want him, Sparhawk,’ she said fiercely.
‘I’m very sorry, Your Majesty,’ Patriarch Dolmant interposed, ‘but Annias has committed crimes against the Church. We get him first.’
‘So that you can lock him away in some monastery to pray and sing hymns the rest of his life?’ she asked with disdain. ‘I have much more interesting plans for him, Your Grace. Believe me, if I get my hands on him first, I will not surrender him to the Church – at least not until I’ve finished with him. After that, you can have what’s left.’
‘That will do, Ehlana,’ Dolmant told her sharply. ‘You’re right on the verge of open disobedience to the Church. Don’t make the mistake of pushing this too far. In point of fact, though, it’s not a monastery that’s waiting for Annias. The nature of the crimes he’s committed against the Church merits burning at the stake.’
Their eyes locked, and Sparhawk groaned inwardly.
Then Ehlana laughed, a bit shamefaced. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace,’ she apologized to Dolmant. ‘I spoke in haste. Burning, did you say?’
‘At the very least, Ehlana,’ he replied.
‘I will, of course, defer to our holy mother. I would sooner die than appear undutiful.’
“The Church appreciates your obedience, my daughter,’ Dolmant said blandly.
Ehlana clasped her hands piously and gave him a wholly spurious little smile of contrition.
Dolmant laughed in spite of himself. ‘You’re a naughty girl, Ehlana,’ he chided.
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ she admitted. ‘I suppose I am at that.’
‘This is a very dangerous woman, my friends,’ Wargun told his fellow monarchs. ‘I think we should all make a special point of not getting in her way. All right, what’s next?’
Emban slid lower in his chair and sat tapping his fat fingertips together. ‘We’d more or less decided that we should settle the question of the Archprelacy once and for all, Your Majesty. That was before you even entered the city. It’s going to take some time for you to prepare your forces to march towards central Lamorkand, isn’t it?’ he asked.
‘At least a week,’ Wargun replied glumly, ‘possibly two. I’ve got units strung out half-way back to Arcium – mostly stragglers and supply wagons. It’s going to take a while to get them organized, and troops really get jammed up when they have to cross bridges.’
‘We can give you ten days at most,’ Dolmant told him. ‘Do your staging and organizing as you march.’
‘It’s not done that way, Your Grace,’ Wargun objected.
‘It will be this time, Your Majesty. Soldiers on a march spend more time sitting around waiting than they do walking. Let’s put that time to good use.’
‘You’ll also want to keep your soldiers out of Chyrellos,’ Patriarch Ortzel added. ‘Most of the citizens have fled, so the city’s deserted. If your men become distracted with looking through unoccupied houses, they’ll be a little difficult to round up when the time comes to march.’
‘Dolmant,’ Emban said, ‘you’re holding the chair in the Hierocracy. I think we should go into session first thing tomorrow morning. Let’s keep our brothers away from the outer city today – for their own safety, of course, since there still might be a few of Martel’s mercenaries hiding in the ruins. Primarily, though, we don’t want them to get a chance to examine the damage to their houses too closely before we go into formal session. We’ve seriously alienated a fair number of Patriarchs, and even with Annias discredited, we don’t want some spur-of-the-moment coalition confusing the issues here. I think we should hold some sort of service in the nave before we go into session. Probably something solemn and having to do with thanksgiving. Ortzel, would you officiate? You’re going to be our candidate, so let’s give everybody the chance to get used to looking at you. And, Ortzel, try to smile now and then. Honestly, your face won’t break.’
‘Am I so very, very stern, Emban?’ Ortzel replied with a faint half-smile.
‘Perfect,’ Emban said. ‘Practise that exact smile in a mirror. Remember that you’re going to be a kindly, loving father – at least that’s what we want them to think. What you do after you get to the throne is between you and God. All right then. The services will remind our brothers that they’re Churchmen first and property-owners second. We’ll march directly to the audience chamber from the nave. I’ll talk to the choirmaster and have a lot of singing echoing through the Basilica – something exalted to put our brothers in the proper mood. Dolmant will call us to order, and we’ll begin with an update – let everybody know the details of what’s been happening. That’s for the benefit of the Patriarchs who’ve been hiding in cellars since the siege began. It’s perfectly proper to call in witnesses under those circumstances. I’ll select them to make sure they’re eloquent. We want a lot of lurid descriptions of rape, arson and pillage to stir up a certain disapproval of the behaviour of the recent visitors to our city. Our parade of witnesses will culminate with Colonel Delada, and he’ll report the conversation between Annias and Martel. Let them mull that over for a little bit. I’ll talk to some of our brothers and have them prepare speeches full of outraged indignation and denunciations of the Primate of Cimmura. Then Dolmant will appoint a committee to investigate the matter. We don’t want the Hierocracy to get sidetracked.’ The fat little Patriarch thought it over. ‘Let’s adjourn for a noon meal at that point. Give them a couple of hours to work themselves up about the perfidy of Annias. Then, when we go back into session, Bergsten will make a speech about the need for all considered speed. Don’t give the appearance of rushing things, Bergsten, but remind them that we’re in a Crisis of the Faith. Then urge that we proceed directly with the voting. Wear your armour and carry that axe. Let’s set the tone of being on a wartime footing. Then we’ll have the traditional speeches by the kings of Eosia. Make them stirring, Your Majesties. Lots of references to cruel war and Otha and the foul designs of Azash. We want to frighten our brothers enough so that they’l
l vote their consciences instead of politicking in back hallways and trying to make deals with each other. Keep your eyes on me, Dolmant. I’ll nose out any Patriarchs with the uncontrollable urge towards political chicanery and identify them to you. As chairman, you can recognize whomever you choose. And under no circumstances whatsoever accept a move to adjourn. Don’t let anybody break the momentum. Go immediately into the nominations at that point. Let’s get into the voting before our brothers have time to start thinking up mischief. Speed the vote right along. We want Ortzel on that throne before the sun goes down. And Ortzel, you keep your mouth shut during the deliberations. Some of your opinions are controversial. Don’t air them in public – at least not tomorrow.’
‘I feel like an infant,’ King Dregos said wryly to King Obler. ‘I thought I knew a little bit about politics, but I’ve never seen the art practised so ruthlessly before.’
‘You’re in the big city now, Your Majesty,’ Emban grinned at him, ‘and this is the way we play here.’
King Soros of Pelosia, a man of extreme piety and an almost child-like reverence had nearly fainted a number of times during Patriarch Emban’s cold-blooded scheme to manipulate the Hierocracy. He finally bolted, muttering something about wanting to pray for guidance.
‘Keep an eye on Soros tomorrow, Your Grace,’ Wargun advised Emban. ‘He’s a religious hysteric. When he makes his speech, he might just decide to expose us. Soros spends all his time talking to God, and sometimes that unsettles a man’s wits. Is there any possible way we can skip over him during the speeches?’
‘Not legitimately,’ Emban said.
‘We’ll talk with him, Wargun,’ King Obler said. ‘Maybe we can persuade him to be too ill to attend tomorrow’s session.’
‘I’ll make him sick, all right,’ Wargun muttered.
Emban rose to his feet. ‘We all have things to attend to, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘so as they say, let’s get cracking.’
Sparhawk stood up. ‘The Elenian embassy was damaged during the siege, My Queen,’ he said to Ehlana in a neutral tone. ‘May I offer you the somewhat Spartan comfort of the Pandion chapterhouse instead?’
‘You’re cross with me, aren’t you, Sparhawk?’ she asked him.
‘It might be more appropriate if we discussed that in private, My Queen.’
‘Ah,’ she sighed. ‘Well, let’s go ahead and go to your chapterhouse so you can scold me for a while. Then we can move right on into the kissing and making up. That’s the part I’m really interested in. At least you won’t be able to spank me – not with Mirtai standing guard over me. Have you ever met Mirtai, by the way?’
‘No, My Queen.’ Sparhawk looked at the silent Tamul woman who stood behind Ehlana’s chair. Mirtai’s skin had a peculiarly exotic bronze tinge to it, and her braided hair was a glossy black. In a woman of normal size, her features would have been considered beautiful, and her dark eyes, slightly upturned at the corners, ravishing. Mirtai, however, was not of normal size. She towered a good hand’s-breadth above Sparhawk. She wore a white satin blouse with full sleeves and a garment that was more like a knee-length kilt than a skirt, belted at her waist. She wore black leather boots and had a sword at her side. Her shoulders were broad and her hips lithely slender. Despite her size, she seemed perfectly proportioned. There was, however, something ominous about her expressionless gaze. She did not look at Sparhawk the way a woman would normally look at a man. She was an unsettling sort of person.
Sparhawk, stiffly correct, offered his steel-clad arm to his queen and escorted her out through the nave and to the marble steps outside the Basilica. There was a ringing tap on his armoured back as they stepped out onto the broad landing at the top of the stairs. He looked around. Mirtai had rapped on his armour with one knuckle. She took a folded cloak from off her arm, shook it out and held it for Ehlana.
‘Oh, it’s not really that cool, Mirtai,’ Ehlana objected.
Mirtai’s face went flinty, and she shook the cloak once commandingly.
Ehlana sighed and permitted the giantess to settle the cloak about her shoulders. Sparhawk was looking directly at the bronze woman’s face, so there could be no question about what happened next. Without changing expression, Mirtai gave him a slow wink. For some reason, that made him feel a great deal better. He and Mirtai were going to get along very well, he decided.
Since Vanion was busy, Sparhawk escorted Ehlana, Sephrenia, Stragen, Platime and Mirtai to Sir Nashan’s study for their discussions. He had spent the morning preparing and sharpening a number of scathing remarks that verged just on the edge of being treasonous.
Ehlana, however, had studied politics since childhood, and she knew that one needs to be quick – even abrupt – when one’s position is none too strong. ‘You’re unhappy with us,’ she began before Sparhawk even had the door closed. ‘You feel that I have no business being here and that my friends here are at fault for allowing me to place myself in danger. Is that more or less it, Sparhawk?’
‘Approximately, yes.’ His tone was frosty.
‘Let’s simplify things then,’ she went on quickly. ‘Platime, Stragen and Mirtai did, in fact, protest most violently, but I’m the queen, so I overruled them. Do we agree that I have that authority?’ Her tone had an edge to it, a note of challenge.
‘She really did, Sparhawk,’ Platime said in a conciliatory tone. ‘Stragen and I yelled at her for an hour about it, and then she threatened to have us thrown into the dungeon. She even threatened to revoke my pardon.’
‘Her Majesty is a very effective bully, Sparhawk,’ Stragen concurred. ‘Don’t ever trust her when she smiles at you. That’s when she’s the most dangerous, and when the time comes, she uses her authority like a bludgeon. We even went so far as to try to lock her in her apartment, but she just told Mirtai to kick the door down.’
Sparhawk was startled. “That’s a very thick door,’ he said.
‘It used to be. Mirtai kicked it twice, and it split right down the middle.’
Sparhawk looked at the bronze woman with some surprise.
‘It wasn’t difficult,’ she said. Her voice was soft and musical, and it was touched with just the faintest tinge of an exotic accent. ‘Doors inside of houses dry out, and they split quite easily if you kick them just right. Ehlana can use the pieces for firewood when winter comes.’ She spoke with quiet dignity.
‘Mirtai is very protective of me, Sparhawk,’ Ehlana said. ‘I feel completely secure when she’s around, and she’s teaching me to speak the language of the Tamuls.’
‘Elene is a coarse and ugly language,’ Mirtai observed.
‘I’ve noticed that,’ Sephrenia smiled.
‘I’m teaching Ehlana the Tamul tongue so that I will not be ashamed to have my owner clucking at me like a chicken.’
‘I’m not your owner any longer, Mirtai,’ Ehlana insisted. ‘I gave you your freedom right after I bought you.’
Sephrenia’s eyes were outraged. ‘Owner!’ she exclaimed.
‘It’s a custom of Mirtai’s people, little sister,’ Stragen explained. ‘She’s an Atan. They’re a warrior race, and it’s generally believed that they need guidance. The Tamuls feel that they aren’t emotionally equipped to handle freedom. It seems to cause too many casualties.’
‘Ehlana was ignorant to even make the suggestion,’ Mirtai said calmly.
‘Mirtai!’ Ehlana exclaimed.
‘Dozens of your people have insulted me since you became my owner, Ehlana,’ the Tamul woman said sternly. ‘They would all be dead now if I were free. That old one – Lenda – even let his shadow touch me once. I know that you’re fond of him, so I’d have regretted killing him.’ She sighed philosophically. ‘Freedom is very dangerous for one of my kind. I prefer not to be burdened with it.’
‘We can talk about it some other time, Mirtai,’ Ehlana said. ‘Now we have to pacify my champion.’ She looked Sparhawk full in the face. ‘You have no reason to be angry with Platime, Stragen or Mirtai, my beloved,’ she told
him. ‘They did everything they could to keep me in Cimmura. Your quarrel is with me and with me alone. Why don’t we excuse them so that we can scream at each other privately?’
‘I’ll go along with them,’ Sephrenia said. ‘I’m sure you’ll both be able to speak more freely if you’re alone.’ She followed the two thieves and the bronze giantess from the room. She paused at the door. ‘One last thing, children,’ she added. ‘Scream all you want, but no hitting – and I don’t want either of you to come out of here until you’ve resolved this.’ She went out and closed the door behind her.
‘Well?’ Ehlana said.
‘You’re stubborn,’ Sparhawk said flatly.
‘It’s called being strong-willed, Sparhawk. That’s considered to be a virtue in kings and queens.’
‘What on earth possessed you to come to a city under siege?’
‘You forget something, Sparhawk,’ she said. ‘I’m not really a woman.’
He looked her slowly up and down until she blushed furiously – he owed her that, he felt. ‘Oh?’ He knew he was going to lose this fight anyway.
‘Stop that,’ she said. ‘I’m a queen – a reigning monarch. That means that I sometimes have to do things that an ordinary woman wouldn’t be allowed to do. I’m already at a disadvantage because I’m a woman. If I hide behind my own skirts, none of the other kings will take me seriously, and if they don’t take me seriously, they won’t take Elenia seriously either. I had to come here, Sparhawk. You understand that, don’t you?’
He sighed. ‘I don’t like it, Ehlana, but I can’t argue with your reasoning.’
‘Besides,’ she added softly, ‘I was lonesome for you.’
‘You win,’ he laughed.
‘Oh good,’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands together delightedly. ‘I just adore winning. Now, why don’t we move right on into the kissing and making up?’
They did that for a while. ‘I’ve missed you, my stern-faced champion,’ she sighed. Then she banged her knuckles on his cuirass. ‘I didn’t miss this though,’ she added. She gave him an odd look. ‘Why did you have such a strange expression on your face when that Ick fellow –’